


The Consent of the Governed

by LibidineTertius



Series: Steal Into My Affections [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Bondage, Dubious consent due to power imbalance, Explicit Consent, Loki is a Manipulative Shit, M/M, Post-Doctor Strange (2016), Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Pre-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Smut, mystical artifacts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-26 16:19:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17749256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LibidineTertius/pseuds/LibidineTertius
Summary: Loki wants something from Steve. Thor should have reminded Steve that Loki needs to come with a warning label.





	The Consent of the Governed

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, the notes say pre-Civil War and post-Ragnarok. Because this is fic and that's the way I roll.
> 
> Possibly first in a series, depending on my underutilized Loki-muse.

“We’d like to grant you a form of parole,” said the captain. His uniform had changed (now far more subdued) since Loki had last seen it, but he was still recognizably the same man. Captain America was handsome with his smooth-jaw and his broad shoulders, and very serious. Everyone was very serious with Loki these days. 

“Parole,” Loki echoed, brows raised. “You offer, I think, to take me off house arrest?” He held his wrists toward the captain, letting the man get a good look. The magical cuffs kept him here in the house of the aptly named Doctor Strange and it was these that kept Loki’s magic dampened. Without even enough magic for illusion, he was forced into his original form: blue-skinned and red-eyed. Jotunn. (His magic was, of course, not quite as contained by the cuffs as they believed, but Loki wasn’t about to tell anyone this.) The captain really looked, and there was something approximating sympathy in his eyes, but he was a serious man with a serious mission and not about to be distracted. Not unless Loki put more effort into it.

“Pretty much,” the captain confirmed. “Wouldn’t you rather have a chance to use your skills? Thor told me how much help you provided on Asgard-” Loki choked, wondering just how selective Thor had been in the telling regarding Loki's _help_ on Asgard. Such as the fact that said 'help' had doomed their world to complete annihilation at the hands of Surtur. Loki… did not think on it, if he could help it. “-that he wouldn’t have been able to save his remaining people from your sister-” Not _Loki’s_ sister. “-without you.” 

There was, as the humans said, _a lot to unpack_ in that mass of half-truths. Loki’s world. Loki’s people. Loki’s family. It was all complicated. But Thor had tried to do Loki a favor, it seemed, and had presented the tale to his team the way they wanted to hear it. “You want me,” Loki said, thin smile in place, eyes holding the captain’s very directly. “So you’ve come to get me.”

And, oh, was that a _blush_? Good. That was something Loki could work with. Dr. Strange was far more distant, and rarely met Loki’s eyes at all. Rarely even spoke to him except to lecture. That the man had been gone these past few days was more a respite to Loki than a concern. But the captain was offering company he might enjoy. “Yes,” the man agreed, face still nearly impassive despite his eyes and the color rising from neck to cheeks.

“I don’t think you’ve had a tour before, have you?” Loki asked, turning slowly. No quick movements, not unless (perhaps until) he wanted the captain to chase. “Let me show you about this charming place, and you can tell me the advantages of parole. After all, I live here safely, among wonders. On _parole_ , would I not be expected to join your fights? Risk my life for people to whom I owe no allegiance? And for what? Another house arrest elsewhere?”

“At first.” The captain followed him through the house. “But we can negotiate once you’ve proved yourself trustworthy.” Loki _did not_ laugh at the idea that he’d ever be ‘trustworthy.’ What lies did Thor tell on his behalf?

They passed between the Spear of Mystical Empowerment and the Mirror of Eternal Shadows. Loki barely ghosted his fingers across them; without his full powers, at best he wouldn’t activate them, and at worst he couldn’t control them. “My freedom will depend upon your good will…”

The captain frowned. “The last time you were here, you murdered people.”

Not really. The last time Loki was here, he spent 30 minutes falling through nothing and then got to watch his adoptive father die. But that was semantics. So instead of replying to it directly, Loki reached out to stroke the Cudgel of Yaziya, which made the captain instantly twitchy. “Do you have a name, Captain?”

“Captain America is my title,” the man said, eyes sharp. “But you can me Captain Rogers if you prefer.”

Loki hummed and took his hand away. “Captain Rogers, you came here to get me.”

“I did,” Captain Rogers agreed, a note of suspicion in his voice, which proved that the man had a brain.

“And you mean to have me?” Loki asked, mostly to make the captain twitch.

“Your point, please.” However, Rogers’ pupils were dilated.

Loki turned his head to display his neck a bit more, then led the Captain down the hallway toward a _particular_ room. “One thing I do lack here is… company,” Loki said slowly. It even had the advantage of being true. There was Strange and that Wong fellow, but generally the only thing to do was study the relics as discreetly as he could so he wouldn’t lose _that_ ‘privilege’ too. He was _bored_. “I might be able to tolerate another house arrest if it isn-” 

And his hand touched the Yoke of Azirapheous. Loki _pushed_ what little power he had into the relic and it burst into movement, binding itself to neck and wrist and down to ankle, tripping Loki down to the floor and pulling him up into a thoroughly unnatural position: legs spread wide on either side of his head and hands bound beside them. The binding around his _mouth_ Loki could have done without, but he hardly had perfect control of the relic. In truth, he wasn’t even sure he would be able to make it release him. It would be worth some discomfort, though, to get what he wanted.

Rogers was immediately on the floor on his knees, kneeling beside Loki, reaching for the yoke, investigating him for damage, it for a release. “The hell? Loki? Are you hurt?” Loki shook his head. He was unhurt, though in some small danger: the relic had a mind of its own. It could free him or kill him. But, it had no reason to do either. Anyway, Loki was no longer releasing any magic into it, so he hoped it would simply achieve its purpose: restrain. Which it did very effectively despite Rogers’ heartfelt yanks.

Loki whimpered behind the gag and, very purposefully, moaned a little, tone intentional. _You wanted me? Here’s your opportunity to have me._ He struggled a little in the yoke.

Rogers looked uncomfortable. “I can try to get you out of this,” he said, but there was almost a question in it and Loki answered by shaking his head. “You don’t want me to try and get you out? What do-” Then, obviously realizing Loki could only answer ‘yes’/’no’ questions, he tried again. “Do you want me to break it?” 

_No._

Rogers was still confused, but the man appeared hopeful as well. Loki knew his form was beautiful still, even forced into the monstrous _blue_ of his true parentage. And Rogers would not be the first to wish intimate punishment on an enemy, though Loki thought him too noble a man to force it upon him without encouragement. “Let me see what I can do about the gag,” Rogers suggested, hand reaching out but not touching the thick material that wrapped over his lips and chin. “That way you can at least speak to me.”

It was with regret that Loki shook his head. _No_. Rogers needed to be the one with all the illusion of control. 

Rogers hesitated now, but finally he reached out and touched Loki’s hand. Loki gripped his fingers and rubbed them slowly and firmly, moaning a little more. This was not a time for subtlety. Rogers’ breath shuddered in his chest. There was no way he wasn't enjoying having Loki at his mercy. “May I touch you?” he asked quietly.

_Yes._

Rogers’ other hand moved to Loki’s chest. He was slow now, but Loki was sure he could make Rogers a more _active_ participant with a bit of prompting. As Rogers touched him over his boring, borrowed Midgardian clothing, Loki rolled his hips and let his head fall back, telegraphing pleasure so loudly that a man both blind and deaf would detect it. The man’s hand jerked back for a moment, but then he squeezed Loki’s fingers and both hands settled on Loki’s body. “Are you sure?” he whispered.

 _Yes_.

Rogers reached for the buttons of Loki’s shirt, unfastening them with the care of a man who is waiting to be told _No._ “You want me to stop, just… shake your head. Or...or can you clap your hand?” he asked. There was anxiety in his voice, but also excitement. Loki clapped the fingers of his left hand against the palm three times, making a soft, but audible noise. Rogers nodded and said, again, “You’re sure?” 

_Yes._ This time accompanied by an eye roll, because as grateful as Loki was that the man he was seducing wasn’t going to be monstrous, he’d also like to get on with it.

Rogers smiled just a little, then began to push away the shirt, touching Loki’s bare skin. It was not the first time Loki had been touched recently. As part of the Gamemaster’s entourage, he’d had opportunities enough to take lovers. But it _was_ the first time anyone had touched him in this skin. Loki closed his eyes so he didn’t have to look at himself, but he could feel the sharp, Jotunn teeth in his mouth. And Rogers was tracing the swirling ridges along his chest, first with fingers and then with his mouth. Maybe eager to prove to himself that he wasn’t merely ravaging a bound prisoner, Rogers was taking his time with his mouth, licking over Loki’s ribs and down his belly where he began to work open the fastenings of Loki’s trousers. An awkward task to be sure with Loki’s body so contorted. 

This would be so much more fun in other circumstances. The captain kneeling before him, worshipful with his mouth... Loki could easily imagine wrapping his hands around the back of that proud head and pressing him inexorably down over his erection. Pressing his cock down Captain Roger's throat and just holding him there, letting him struggle... 

All at once, Rogers hesitated. “Do… you have other clothes?” he asked.

Loki grinned behind the thick gag. _Yes._

Captain Rogers began to tear the fabric. Loki moaned encouragement as Rogers tore through the sides of his trousers, breaking the seams and ripping the fabric. It was loud and Loki took pains to be louder still. Denim hung heavily about his knees and Rogers began to lick swirls along Loki’s thighs just as he’d done on Loki’s chest. If Loki hadn’t been hard before, this would certainly have done it. No, Rogers was not a monstrous lover. And… wait...did that mean Loki had markings on his legs as well? Loki avoided his Jotunn form, had never looked at himself naked like this. But those tracing fingers and eager mouth suggested ridged skin along his inner and outer thighs. His undergarments were torn away entirely by the captain’s strong hands, and then the licking continued along his hip bones, nearly to the base of his cock. Was _that_ marked as well? Loki did not know and did not _want_ to know.

Bound, on his back, with an enemy making love to his body, Loki whimpered in earnest now, tears leaking from his eyes. Then Rogers’ mouth licked him from root to tip. Not tracing anything, just giving him pleasure. Application of lips and Loki moaned. He wanted to encourage Captain Rogers to keep running those lips along his erection, to rub his mouth over Loki’s balls and suck the head of his cock, but he couldn’t say anything at all, only groan out his need and try to make the right noises to make the man do what he wanted. Rogers was no longer hesitating. He gave a passable blowjob, bobbing his head and hollowing his cheeks. Positively pornographic, really. The man looked good on his knees, his mouth full of cock. And all this with Loki unable to contribute so much as a wet mouth or a few filthy words. That was was galling; Loki was, as they said, a talker.

Long, sweet minutes of sucking and licking, then a spit-slick finger rubbed between the cheeks of Loki’s ass and he tensed a little. There had been no opportunity to grease himself before the visit; it wasn’t as though he’d known the captain was to be arriving today, let alone what the midgardian might want of him. Loki fought to control his face. Being taken without proper lubrication would hurt. But letting the man hurt him would pay off when Loki could use that pain to later pull the human’s strings. 

Only Rogers wasn’t doing anything more. He merely looked up Loki’s body. “Do you like this?” he asked, pressing gently at the puckered entrance, not quite penetrating yet. 

Damn him. _Yes._

With a little smile, Rogers pressed firmly and the finger slid easily past the tight little ring and inside Loki. He moaned a little louder, low and urgent, encouraging Rogers onward. The man slid his finger all the way in. Loki could feel the captain’s other fingers bumping the curve of Loki’s ass as he felt around. The fingers stroked Loki inside. “This doesn’t hurt?” Rogers asked, rubbing Loki’s inner walls.

 _No._ (Loki was certain that Rogers hated him. There could be no question? Yet he was taking a _lot_ of care for someone he hated.)

“This isn’t why I came here.” Obviously. “Stop me if it hurts.” The finger searched around until it found Loki’s prostate, and when Loki sucked in air, cock bouncing in excitement, the captain took the hint and kept working over that spot. Gently, the finger worked in and out and _rubbed_ , and then Rogers’ head bent again and he started sucking again. Not a fancy technique. Loki had the impression that while the human wasn’t virginal, he wasn’t exactly greatly experienced either. Still, he was enthusiastic and determined, which went a very long way. The mouth settled into place a couple inches down Loki’s cock, and then the captain’s tongue just started _lapping_. It was almost like his little fantasy, but not quite. Rogers glanced up at him from under his lashes and Loki groaned behind his gag, startled by how quickly his orgasm was already come up on him. 

He did his best to make encouraging noises behind the mask, to get the captain to finish him off, but he literally couldn’t open his mouth. The best he could do was make _urrn urrn_ noises low in his throat, but Rogers took it for the encouragement it was and his free hand closed around the base of Loki’s cock, stroking hard and fast until Loki spilled, vision blacking out and sparks behind his eyes, body shuddering once violently in his bindings and then going still. 

Loki was a little light-headed from only breathing through his nose, but he was still conscious enough to feel Rogers petting his bare thigh and turning him over. There, he thought, both pleased and dreading what was to come next. Rogers knelt up behind him, pushing his trousers further down and lining up against his ass.

Only then he moved a little lower and instead of the expected pain of poorly-prepared penetration, Loki could feel Rogers’ (not unimpressive) cock bumping up against the back of his balls instead. “Just hold on,” Rogers murmured. “I got this.” He was moving both their bodies around a little, settling Loki forward, face and chest pressed almost to the floor and then he started thrusting. Loki had certainly enjoyed a bit of frottage before. And he’d rutted between a lover’s legs when young and eager and unwilling to take the time for preparation. But he was _spread wide_. His asshole was positively on display, just _inviting_ the captain to take him, and instead....

It had to be awkward. Loki could hardly close his thighs. Rogers had to be using his hand to thrust like that, rubbing his cock alongside Loki’s own cock and balls. He was breathing heavily near Loki’s ear, grunting slightly, animalistic if quietly so. Loki did his best to meet the man halfway, to arch his back and thrust out his ass. He even timed his own groans to the thrusts, as though he were truly being fucked, though the friction against his spent genitals certainly was stimulating in its own right.

“Let me come on you,” the man whispered against his ear and Loki felt a little thrum in his balls. He nodded, of course. For… the plan. And then Rogers was moving about, and there were the obscene sounds of skin on skin before wet warmth hit his ass. And then again. A third time. A fourth. The wetness trickled very slowly along Loki’s skin, marking him.

Rogers exhaled, shuddering like he had just been saved, and fingers touched Loki’s ass. _Tracing_ again. Along the cheeks, up to the base of his spine under his borrowed shirt. “I feel like I should apologize,” Rogers said quietly. He sounded sad.

Loki smiled behind his gag. Then he took in as deep a breath as he could through his nose and began to shudder. The captain hurriedly turned him back around, fumbling at the restraints, again trying to yank them away, while Loki all but wept crocodile tears. The man looked alarmed and guilty. Beautiful idiot. “What did I do?” Rogers was asking. “No, I know you can’t answer. I’m sorry. I thought… I’m sorry. You don’t _have_ to do anything…” he prattled.

Shuddering dramatically, Loki thought how nice it would be to live up in Stark’s self-indulgent sky palace with his mechanized servants. And he wondered what more he could twist Rogers into doing.

**Author's Note:**

> (For real, though, lovely readers: Loki had magic restraints. Be super careful with anything around your _neck_.)
> 
> Here is the yoke, though, technically, it should probably be called a spreader bar.  
>   
> 


End file.
